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Marion Cunningham's unbelievable oatmeal muffins, from one of the best cookbooks of all time, The Breakfast Book.
Crop. It is a miracle, all of it, all the concatenating plants. This is not quite the size of a dime. Brothacuz told me there's an experiment in which two plants separated by floors in a building feel each other's pain, measurably. I'm going to be eating the tomato anyway.
For lunch radishes, fresh local feta, and buttered baguette, followed by fresh figs, hazelnuts, pepper, mint and balsamic.
For dinner, Italian sausages, peach and cherry mostarda, cauliflower alla sabbia.
Tasks are, another layer of compost lasagna in the flower trenches, fabrication of wire tomato supports, patching of punctured irrigation hose, peace and pleasure.
I think I will get myself the cruiser I want. Should it be mint or vanilla?
Justification for the expense of a new one: although new, it's way less expensive than any cruiser advertised on Craigslist, way less expensive than gym membership, way more accessible on a daily basis, and a thousand times more fun.
Happy fourth everybody.
